Take it, p.8
Take It, page 8
“That’s what you think this is, just us screwing around? I don’t care. Like you said, I’ve got more invested in this than you do, and the risk is worth it to me. I’m not giving this up.” He leans down and kisses my lips softly, too damn softly for me to think straight. Had he slapped my ass and leaned me against the wall I could have kept my thoughts on track, but a gentle kiss uproots me.
“Why? That doesn’t make any sense. This is your career. This is your breakout moment. Don’t be an idiot.” I lean away from his inviting lips but still hold my face close to his.
“I like you. You’re smart, driven, and beautiful. You aren’t clingy or juvenile. I don’t see why I would walk away from that. Let’s just be careful. No more funny business in the office. I cross my cock and hope to die,” he promises then jokes and I can’t help but laugh. I bite my lip to fight the smile, but it doesn’t work. “We’ll get to work and not screw around there anymore.”
“Cross your cock?” Something about this moment feels wrong, and yet so very right all at once. It’s too fast, my brain tells me. There is too much to risk here. I’ve worked too hard. But the pheromones, the abs, and the glint in his blue eyes swirl together to form a fog in my brain. I’m blinded by what he’s offering me. I want it so bad even though I know it’s wrong. I’m wolfing down the donut.
“We work today,” I insist as I try to ignore his large finger circling its way around my nipple. “Seriously. I won’t blow off another day. I don’t care what you do.”
“Now that’s a challenge,” Harrison says as he cups my ass and pulls my body against his. His mouth smothers mine in a hungry kiss as his fingers slide inside me, his thumb brushing against my clit, just the way I like it. I moan into his mouth, and I can’t decide if I’m protesting or begging for more. He slides away from me, out of me, and shifts so he’s under the hot water and I’m standing in the cold. “But I’ll respect your wishes. No playing around at your office today,” he says with a deadpan look.
I’m tingling; his teasing started something I’m desperate for him to finish. “We’re not in the office yet,” I whisper as I loop my hands around his waist and pull him in to me.
“That’s my girl.”
He backs up against the wall, letting the pulsating cascade of warm water dash down the length of his body. I can see that his cock has risen steadily in anticipation of what's to come. I fall to my knees and take him in my mouth. He runs his hand through my wet hair, wrapping his fingers around my red tresses and pulling me to him.
He pulls me upward, guiding his rigid cock into me; I’m hungry for him. I moan from the size of him, and he continues to thrust into me, driving his invasion with the determination of a conquering general. We quickly switch positions. He begins to tease my nipples to full attention. When his lips and tongue replace his fingers, I scream with agonizing pleasure. Oh God—don't let this ever end.
I begin to come—not a trickle or stream, but an all out tsunami—and in the next second, Harrison begins to pump me full of his own hot cum.
"Still in a hurry to get to your office, Jenny?"
"Well, maybe we can drag our feet just a little longer. I suppose as long as I make an appearance before noon. That's still four hours away. What did you have in mind to eat up the time, Mr. Burke?"
"Get yourself ready. Use that lipstick you had on yesterday. Bring it along—you'll need numerous reapplications. I'll choose the lingerie I want you to wear and a nice dress. I’ve been telling you what to wear so I thought I better start buying what I like too. Now, go. The cock . . . I mean clock is ticking."
"Where are we going? You obviously have some sort of plan.”
"It's a surprise." He grins, coming up behind me and cupping both my breasts as he kisses the nape of my neck. "It's this charming little place I know on the Cape. Right on the coast."
"Your other home? I-I saw on your business card you live on the Cape. I’ve been curious about the other address you have. I love Cape Cod."
"No. This place is far more . . . interesting. Now go get ready, or we'll run out of time."
Chapter Eleven
He hadn't been kidding. Within half an hour we were on the road, speeding south, bound for Cape Cod. How I’d gone from determined to leave him to being swept up in his wake as a happy road trip companion is beyond me. But somehow his magic worked on me again and I pushed down the worry about my job in order to get more of his time and attention.
Like usual he'd been as good as his word. Though the lingerie he'd chosen was something silky, lacy, and scandalous, the simple floral dress was something I might've picked out to wear to the office on a warm day. I added complementing strappy shoes, a clutch bag, and a few choice items of jewelry before we hustled into his car for our next adventure. I must say he’s a hell of a shopper with good taste. I like everything he had to offer in the way of fashion this morning.
We start seeing exit signs for Cape Cod towns with old English sounding names: Yarmouth, Harwich, Chatham—the signs whiz by as we rocket through one tourist town after another. Finally, he takes a sharp right onto Driftwood Road and heads out on a peninsula with surf thundering in on both sides. The view of the Atlantic is breathtaking, the modest saltbox cottage restaurant is inviting, oozing with Yankee practicality and Old World charm.
"I found this place about two years ago on my weekend wanderings. The Cape almost sinks under the weight of the summer complaint—tourists—but come the winter, we natives have the beaches, sea, and pine tree groves pretty much to ourselves. On my way back from Truro, I stopped in for a snack. Who expects five-star seafood from an Italian restaurant called Sophia's Clam Shack?" he explains as he crosses the crowded parking lot and walks beneath a flagpole sporting both the American and Italian flags.
Even though the urge is there, I stop myself from feeling like he is my boyfriend. It’s these casual conversations that make it the hardest. "It was a safe bet they'd have pizza, linguine, and passable veal scaloppini, but hands down, this place has the best steamed lobster I've ever tasted." We reach the restaurant's front door, and Harrison holds it open for me. "If you don't mind, let me order for both of us, Jenny. I promise you the dining experience of a lifetime."
He is asking my permission not bossing me around. This isn’t sexy play or banter; this is date talk. As we walk through the doorway, a wall of raucous cheering assails us. Is he that well known here, I think before I realize we entered near a crowded bar and there is a soccer match on the flat screen TV. Ironically it is the US against Italy. I'm not much of a soccer fan, in fact, I'm not really into any sports. I did play a little softball in junior high, something else my dad managed to miss completely. I am lost for a moment in the memory that my mom, no matter how busy she was, made it to every game. She was convinced I’d be a star and maybe it would be something we could bond over. I quit before high school started. Just one more way I abandoned my mother.
A hectic day spent shopping in an air-conditioned mall, trying to fight my way to the best after season sales, is about as much of a sport as I engage in as an adult. But I can see the Italians scored, tying the match. A short, heavyset woman with steel grey hair pulled back in a tight bun, shot out of the kitchen, walked up behind an Italian stud, and whacked him across the back of the head with a slap that was a cross between punishment and affection.
"Rudolpho, why are you cheering for Italy? We're Americans now. Your mama should not have to remind you. It's America that puts food in your belly and a roof over your head."
"I thought you did those things, Mama," the man replies and all the people around him laugh.
The middle-aged Italian-American mom seems soothed by his rebuttal. She turns to face Harrison, smoothing her apron with her hands. “Mr. Burke, it's such a delight to see you, and with such a lovely young lady by your side. I have your favorite table by the window ready if you just follow me."
He hadn't lied. Without a doubt, each forkful of hot buttered lobster meat melts in my mouth, filling my taste buds with orgasmic delight. Clams, shrimp, lobster, and a small thick tuna steak grilled to perfection, all washed down with copious amounts of rich Black Swan wine. I am in glutton heaven. But I should be in work overload hell.
"Jenny, what's wrong? Did you get a bad clam?" Harrison asks, reacting to my troubled face.
"No, the food's to die for; this has been amazing, you're to die for too."
"Then what's wrong?"
"There's no way we're going to make it back to my office by one, or even two. Another lost day. Harrison, we've got to stop doing this. It's only a matter of time before I get in trouble.”
“Would that be the worst thing really?”
His question hits me like a punch to my very full gut. Is he suggesting that he’d be happy if I got fired? And if so, is that because he’s hoping for a future for us?
“I don’t want to lose my job. I need my job.”
“You are qualified for so many other jobs. Another company would be lucky to have you and they wouldn’t treat you like shit. You can tell yourself all day long that you’d have to start at the bottom and all companies are the same, but they aren’t. Biosim is full of pigs and you’re falling for their shit over and over again. It’s a big world out there, Jenny. You should consider other options. I thought you were finally starting to understand that, building your confidence enough to see you don’t need that place.”
“Is that what all of this has been about for you? You are trying to get me fired so that I move on to another job because you’ve decided I’d be better off? Because if that is the case you are one screwed-up guy.” I’ve heard a lot of doozies in my day, but this would be a new one. Never has a guy tried to control my career because he thought he knew what’s best for me. Harrison is the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time but if he charges down this path, I will stick a fork in his thigh without hesitating.
“Stop,” Harrison commands, holding up his hand and leaning in clearly with the hope that I’ll lower my voice. “I would never try to get you fired so you were forced to look for another job just because I feel like you deserve better. Me telling you what to wear, what I like . . . that’s just fun kinky shit we do. I’m not the kind of guy who tries to own a woman or control her. I would hope by this time you’d know that about me. On the contrary, I admire the brain you’ve got in your head and I know you can make choices for yourself. The last thing I’d ever want to do is take that away from you. Control is a powerful thing, I’m more interested in giving it to you, not taking it away.”
Guilt instantly fills me and I hang my head apologetically. “Sorry,” I whisper, wondering how I went from blazing mad to remorseful. “I’ve lined up a lot of the study already but I haven’t overseen any of it. I’ve been completely disconnected. I’m feeling shitty about that and defensive. Being this hands off, I can’t say that I didn’t miss something or screw up anything. That’s a terrible feeling. Just because the work is being done doesn’t mean it’s being done right. My job is to make sure it is."
"You’ve lined up the testing already? When did you do that?” Harrison’s face washes with a flash of worry and then rights itself. “How did you find time?”
“It hasn’t been easy but I’ve pieced together what I can between everything we’re doing. I didn’t give it my usual attention and I’m worried I could have screwed something up because I’m so distracted. Mr. Jones doesn’t cut me any slack; he’ll get on my ass for lack of progress the second he realizes how little I’ve done.”
“I'd hoped to be the one to get on your ass.” Harrison reaches across the table and traces my knuckles with his finger. “I have a place in mind. Look, let me call Jones for you. I'll tell him we're working in the field today. After all, BioSim expects me to deliver the golden goose with this drug and make everybody a ton of money. He’s been kissing my ass all along. You know as well as I do how long these tests can take, how much research needs to be done at times. He’s a moron; if I tell him we need to be out of the office he’ll believe me."
"That doesn’t help the actual job at hand. It’s not that I’m not grateful that you’ll do that for me.”
"It's for us. I want you to myself today," he says, taking his phone out of his pocket. "Of course, you'll owe me. Fortunately, I know just how you can settle your debt."
A knot in my stomach pulls tighter as I hear my conscience screaming that Harrison should be headstrong with moving this drug forward. But maybe he really is falling for me, maybe he’s swept up in the same current I am. My lips are pursed together as I watch him dial his phone and he winks in my direction. In seconds he's smoothed the chaotic waters and gotten me off work. One phone call and he’s made it all better.
Now we have the rest of the afternoon and evening to indulge in sexual romping if he wants. Maybe he'll take me to his place in South Chatham. Just as I begin to relax and my mind starts to wander to the possibilities, his cell rings. Had Mr. Jones changed his mind?
"Sorry, Babe, I really should take this. I've been expecting an important call."
"Go right ahead,” I say, waving him off.
"Burke here."
Someone on the other end of the line must begin talking and talking quickly. I’m guessing it isn’t about anything good because as I watch, Harrison's bright smile blurs and then slides off his face.
"So, we're closer, but still not there. I gather the molecular-bonding agent isn't the problem after all? Well, don't get too discouraged. I need you to push ahead on this. We're running out of time."
I try not to eavesdrop, but there's enough mystery around Harrison in general for me to continue half listening. Still, I manage to keep my tribe of burning questions off my face. Barely.
"This shit never ends. Through the week my face is welded to my phone. That was nothing. Just another hopeful miracle cure that doesn't seem to be panning out. I doubt this drug will be ready for market for another five years."
"Anything I can do?"
"Actually, you're already doing it. You've got to be the best distraction in the world for me. This job is stressful and I have a habit of getting lost in some bad vices. As far as I can tell you have no negative side effects on me."
“I wish I could say the same for you,” I admit, still not feeling comfortable with my choices.
“This is worth the risk,” Harrison says quietly as he slides his hand across the table and covers mine affectionately. “Let’s drive to a cozy abandoned lighthouse I know."
"Sounds spooky," I say, allowing him to flip my hand over, lace our fingers together and lead me out of the restaurant.
"Nothing spooky. The only monster you have to watch out for is me, and you know exactly how to keep me under control."
He’s right I do. I know him now. His little quirks and what things drives him wild all come like second nature to me. Every thought of work melts away as we begin our lovemaking on the sun-baked platform at the top of an old abandoned lighthouse. Harrison gives me the short version of the history of the ancient whitewashed stone structure, but honestly, all my thinking centers on his broad chest, heavily muscled arms, and deep eyes. Like a sexy history professor he rattles on about the lighthouse being built somewhere around seventeen fifteen, while I watch him remove his hand-sewn pinstriped shirt and khaki pants as though we’re at his place and he’s undressing for the night. That’s one of the amazing things about him. He can be comfortable and confident anywhere.
When he mentions the devastating fire that demolished the first lighthouse built on the site, my eyes are glued to his sweat-glistening abs and I’m hoping for a glimpse of the main muscle he keeps hidden below. By the time he mentions the lighthouse keeper's family being swept away in the eighteen eighties, I am all but drooling in anticipation. I remove my summery dress, and lie down on the thin blanket Harrison has brought. My legs spread in open invitation.
Harrison doesn't disappoint. He stops talking abruptly, as if deciding to use his mouth for better things. Like kissing, licking, and sucking.
As I give myself over to him once again, we write a symphony of sexual love together. With every passion-drenched drop of sweat, my declaration of non-committal casual sex melts away. I've been a silly fool lying to myself. I care for Harrison. I care far deeper than is safe or wise. I am bound to get hurt. I just don't care.
With every warm caress and daring thrust, my heart sings the heartfelt refrain I tried so long to ignore. I am in love, and oh so very, very vulnerable.
Before he comes he whispers my name and I stare deeply into his eyes. The look he’s giving me is enough to send chills down my spine. Without another word from his lips I hear the message his heart is sending me. Gently, he brushes back the hair from my face, so that there is nothing blocking our eyes from being completely fixed on each other. We ride the waves of ecstasy but in a different manner than every before. We’re speaking in a completely new language and holding each other so tightly. There is nothing kinky, nothing particularly exciting, but this is the best sex I’ve ever had with Harrison. It’s the best I’ve ever had with anyone. We’re fused together, completely connected and in sync. And in this moment I admit to myself that I love him. Even more frightening, I admit that it seems as though he loves me as well.
For hours I lay in his arms dozing on and off under the warm sun, lulled by the sound of his heart and the crashing waves. I want to tell him that I love him. I want to shout it into the vast ocean. Instead I let the intensity hanging between us tell the story. I’ve given him every line in the book about being casual and just having fun. To go back on that in such a dramatic way would be unfair. To go from lust to love in what he’d interpret as the blink of an eye would make me look unstable. All I can do is bask in the moment and wait for the right time to tell him. It shouldn’t be too hard considering every sign he just gave me shows he’s feeling the same way. One of us will just have to get the guts to break first and say something.
